


Ratchet Fucked Him Up

by Forgotten_Logic



Series: Random Short Stories [17]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Begging, Belly Kink, Downgrade!Optimus Prime, I guess???, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Vaginal Fingering, food stuffing, valveplug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 17:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14958752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forgotten_Logic/pseuds/Forgotten_Logic
Summary: um, yeah. stuffing porn with oral added in for good measure.





	Ratchet Fucked Him Up

**Author's Note:**

> I was having a depressive episode and this was the only way to retaliate against my own hellish mind. I should have been working on Rodimus Tentacle porn but the old otp cam my way :3
> 
> I hope yall enjoy!

"Now open up," the red and white mech said, offering another puffed morsel to already stained lips. Slowly they parted to accept the sweet thing. The soft Energon treat melted as it touched the former Prime's warm and wet glossa. 

He'd already eaten a lot, making him pant with the heat rise in his chassis. Ratchet continued to offer up the soft cubes each moment his mouth opened. They were sweet and quite filling, obviously. When the last of the treats were left he willed his voice modular to power up to be useful (because it was on the lowest setting, barely allowing him to make mewling pants). "Ratchet," his voice strained. "May I speak?" The former medic paused. "Yes."

"Can we take a break? It's starting to ache," Optimus whimpered, lightly tugging at his restraints. Ratchet continued to stay as he was but did relent, releasing the little puff back into the container to then come and rest his servos on a swollen belly. 

Optimus had been downgraded since coming back to Cybertron, there wasn't a need for him to still have an obnoxiously huge frame to lug around; so he chose a frame style that was similar to what he had before the war. Yes, he had become a little shorter but he was comfortable with it. And now he could gaze directly into Ratchet's optics without having to kneel down. It was comfortable.

Ratchet's servos were warm against the soft mesh, he squeezed and patted gently. "Well, you've been good." He leaned him close to nearly rest over the swell. "Very obedient. You deserve a treat, don't you think?" Ratchet's voice husky as he dragged his servo across the belly, over the slender windshield, to cup a silver cheek. It sent a gentle shiver across Optimus' neural net, across his frame, frame gently arching up to catch his mate's lips. Ratchet obliged him eagerly.

His servo slid down the bulb to rest under the curve, just above Optimus' heating equipment, making the once Prime whimper. "What do you want?" It was the soft stroking that made Optimus melt beneath skilled digits, leaving him breathless. He opened his valve panel, beads of pink fluid oozed out of blue and black soft lips. Ratchet couldn't hold back his smirk, fans clicking up. "Oh, you want me to touch you there, hmn?" _Of course, there!_ Optimus thought with the slightest of bucks from his hips; he couldn't go very far, not with the restraints on his wrists and peds keeping him in place. Or the slosh in his full tanks.

He whimpered; Ratchet only touched the lining. It was teasingly gentle and that made Optimus cry out when Ratchet plucked at his outer node, making his valve pulse hard, lubricant pooling between his peds. He spread his knees further apart, resting his aft on his ankles, slightly uncomfortable but the ministrations would more than make up for it. 

Ratchet slid two digits on both sides of the puffing blue and black lips, middle digit poking in; the noise that escaped Optimus' vocalizer certainly made Ratchet proud of himself. Moving his digit in and out left Optimus like putty: soft and easily palpable. His engine whined lowly when it was completely removed-

-only for him to gasp as three pushed in. Blue head falling back, colliding with the pillar that he was attached to. "Good?" Ratchet asked knowingly. "Think you jumped the gun," Optimus breathed, pushing his hips out as far as he could. Ratchet scraped the tips of his digits along the smooth internal lining, reveling in the wonderful clench on them. He could take him now and savor those pulses with absolute glee. 

"Oh? I thought you liked that," Ratchet mumbled, taking his other servo and slid it down from neck cables to sensitive windshield wipers, plucking one and letting it slap back against the glass. "Now tell me," he whispered, leaning very close to a blue audial. "You want glossa or spike?" His moist calipers clenched hard at either prospect, pink fluid flowed out, digits pumping in haphazardly, Ratchet's pattern all but lost on him. Already he edged close to his own climax and he knew Optimus needed just a little something more to get him off; they both would. 

Ratchet slid away and out, one sticky pink servo landed on a silver thigh, idly rubbing. "I'm waiting," he sounded with mock indigence. Optimus, his head against the pillar, he tried to slid his knees a little farther apart. "Just take me!" He could already feel his own warm fluids pool between his legs, touching his pedes. When nothing happened his engine gave a low growl. Ratchet enjoyed that, just watching his mate just needing to be touched between those folds. Hell, he wanted to touch between those folds, and Optimus knew that he wanted it. 

"Spike or glossa," he repeated. Optimus just leaned his head back against the pillar, processor grew hazy. "B-both!" He didn't see his mate smirk, but Ratchet didn't hide it in his tone. "So needy." 

He dragged his servo down between stained silver thighs, undoing the restraint, unceremoniously lifting his lover’s aft right on up. With Optimus’ aft up, his head slid down to rest against the ground; Optimus tried to muster a glare until he squealed at the fantastic appendage moving inside him.

Ratchet hummed his approval, sending lovely shivers through the last Prime's neural net as he tasted him. The position was awkward but neither cared. Ratchet continued to flick at the sweet, pink flow, almost proud of himself for having Optimus get stuffed with sweets; very sweet indeed. It had an added bonus of making his lubricant taste awfully decadent, and it was wholly worth it. He flicked at the anterior node with his thumb, Optimus practically sobbed, already he felt his valve clench against his mate’s glossa, inching closer to climax. 

The former medic pushed his face flush with the darkened folds, sweet and sticky fluids sloshed against his face and lips. He hummed again, this time much more force behind it. It made Optimus cry out, sensations were driving him mad! His servos were fists, Optimus on instinct pulled against the restraints on his wrists, cutting into the joints, making him whine. It was all too good! All the while Ratchet stroked up and down Optimus’ free and very erect black and blue striped spike, its light pulsing a pale blue instead of the navy it regularly is adorned with. It had made a dribbling mess against his stomach, pink fluid against a silver belly looked so appetizing. 

Optimus keened which fell into a whimper when he felt denta drag across and nipped at the anterior node. Heat rose in his groin, where his mate held him, bringing him even closer to spilling his lubricants all over. Ratchet moved a servo, dragging base to tip, grazing the bulk of Optimus’ belly. He whimpered as Ratchet thumbed over the slit, already going to a steady rhythm, dragging his digits over his mate’s black and blue ribbed spike, tickling his valve. Transfluid sputtered from the slit, making Ratchet’s practiced servos slip along with ease. 

Optimus sobbed when Ratchet squeezed hard against the organ, all to then barely touch the surface. He felt Ratchet push his lips between his valve, continuing to taste him. The heat in his groin, his fans sputtering to keep up, and Ratchet’s glossa scraping against his lining was coming to be too much! Ratchet couldn’t help but chuckle at his mate’s whine, all the while his face was still flush with that soft valve. 

His HUD had to reboot with the sheer amount of power behind the overload. His optics were slow to follow. But he could still feel that Ratchet had a hold of his hip and spike, keeping the heat in his system pique. 

“You claimed endurance,” Ratchet scoffed, servos slid up from the widened blue hip and spike. “Has it really been so long?” Ratchet pulled Optimus up higher against the pillar, legs spread wide over white hips, weighed down by copious amount of fuel. “You're–” he tried to sit up and failed “–one to talk.”

Ratchet chuckled and slid forward, lifting Optimus’ chassis up to rest better against the pillar. He panted at the change, at how the air was knocked from him so quickly. His legs flexed as Ratchet continued his ministrations on the blue spike, squeezing the tip, making Optimus try to encircle Ratchet with his legs. It felt just so good, but if the fire in Ratchet’s loins didn't go out soon, it'd hurt. 

Ratchet leaned in, still continuing, still going against his stuffed gut, keening in both delight and frustration. “Still have it in you to keep going?” He teased, making Optimus growl threateningly, digging his digits in seams on his medic’s shoulders. And then he stopped moving, reaching for Optimus’ cuffed hands. “Hold on.” 

Ratchet smirked again, raising both frames off the ground with a grunt. Carefully he held Optimus, to not put any more pressure than necessary onto the stuffed chassis. Optimus wrapped his hands around Ratchet’s neck, still within Ratchet’s hold, feeling the chafe that had grown on his wrists. He could feel his tank shake with each of Ratchet’s steps, jiggling and full. 

Over to their berth, Ratchet laid him down, a magenta mess between his thighs and on his pedes; Optimus scooching himself up and dragging pillows from the headboard under him, which was easier said than done. The fuel had weighed him down and the slosh didn’t help. But Ratchet liked that Optimus was this way, hot, wet, and full to the point of difficulty. 

Fuel would not be the only thing that Optimus would be stuffed with this coupling. They both knew it and it left them with a fire that would only be quenched when they would spill their juices. Particularly to have Ratchet’s _inside_ Optimus, and watch him squirm on his spike, and his valve pulse around Ratchet’s rod. Ratchet’s imagination burned.

**Author's Note:**

> I may make more but this was made on a whim between the hours of 1 and 4 AM this morning. Honestly, the most productive I've been in weeks... months.....


End file.
